In session
by Jinxgirl
Summary: Sequel to "Evaluation." One month later, Faith must face Dr. Lecter again. Will be several chapters. Takes place during season four Buffy. Crossover with Silence of the Lambs.
1. Chapter 1

In session

Author notes: Sequel to "Evaluation," Buffy/Silence of the Lambs crossover. One month after her session with Dr. Lecter, Faith must face him again. This will likely be several chapters and longer than the original, and I'm not quite sure exactly where it will end up yet.

Faith would never have thought it possible for a month behind prison bars to pass so quickly. Usually every minute passed with the excruciating slow tedium that was, as difficult as it was for someone of her restless, impatient nature to bear, infinitely more preferable to the continual incisive pain, the raw anguish and barely held back rage, that she had struggled so desperately to gain control of. That pain had threatened to control her, to consume her, prior to her confession to the LA police and her taking residence in prison to atone for her crimes.

It was still there, lurking in the depths of the shadowed heart she had once thought damaged beyond repair, the soul she thought she had no longer possessed. The hurting, the anger, the guilt…the fear. Inside the prison walls Faith could begin to push it aside, if not to sort through it or to make it go away. She could forget it, sometimes…she could begin to feel a tentative, slowly growing peace, for the first time in her life, even if this peace was not whole or firmly fixated inside her. And even when it was hard, even when she had to clinch her fists and tense every muscle and force herself to keep back impulsive words of anger, even when she had to check herself from striking out at another person who managed to slip a fingernail under her skin, even when boredom and anxiety combined to make her scalp prickle and her skin itch so fiercely with a desire to do something, anything, to break forth from her self-imprisonment and just run, just scream, just lash out and unleash unto others everything she was fighting to keep inside, she could check herself, could still hold back.

Even when ordered about by prison guards she knew she could kill with one blow, even when enduring touches unasked for and strip searches that were unnecessary and unwanted, even when hearing sneered comments from other inmates and the voices that had never entirely stopped echoing in the back of her mind, voices made all the more powerful because they were the ghosts of memories…even with all of this, Faith had been coping, she had been getting by. Even with the occasional flashbacks coming to her so suddenly and intensely at times that Faith froze, her breath catching, throat closing over, her eyes darkening and growing unfocused as her hands shook and her knees weakened slightly, heart pounding in reaction to the onslaught of images quickly flashing into her mind's eye.

Grasping hands on bare skin, the glinting of an eye in the darkness, a large hand on pale naked flesh….the lifeless, still face of a heavily made up woman lying on a couch with her neck at an awkward angle, her limbs stiff and pale in death…an older woman's kind smile, quickly twisting into a vivid mask of terror and suffering as the life finally faded from her eyes…raised voices, a blur of motion as a knife slashed downward, and blood, so much blood, as a shocked voice said to her, "Faith, you killed a man…" and a small face framed with blonde hair, set into grim lines as its owner thrust Faith's knife into her stomach.

Even with this, and even with the nightmares that left Faith breathless and alert, heart knocking in her chest, face flushed, hair sticking to her neck and cheeks by her own sweat, stomach twisting itself into a taut mass of knots low inside her, she could still forget, still push it aside at times, if only because of the brief moments that she could feel the smallest fragments of peace within her grasp. It was those few precious moments that could sustain her through all else. It was those moments that had given her hope, that if she could not be happy, or could not make things right, that the fact that she was trying could at least bridge some of the distance.

Until that damn shrink, that fucking Dr. Hannibal Rhymes-with-Cannibal Lecter. Because ever since he had set his pale, creepy eyes…eyes that never seemed to blink, not ONCE…on Faith, and somehow used them to see into her soul, she hadn't been able to feel that fleeting peace again, not for even a few moments. And everything else…it all was much more persistent in setting up permanent residence in her thoughts, her feelings…even her dreams.

After she had been escorted back to her solitary prison cell, fresh out of her "session" with the man who could make the guy from The Shining look like a sensitive and sympathetic guy, Faith had paced the small confines of her cell with agitated energy, barely able to keep from ripping off its bars and flinging them, from punching the wall or breaking her bed. The emotion the bastard had provoked inside of her pressed so strongly against her chest that she found it hard to breathe, to gain control over her movements or feelings, and she could not calm herself down for nearly an hour, could not stop pacing until the warnings of the baffled and irritated prison guards and her own sudden and startling exhaustion brought her to a stop.

Slumping onto her bed, head in her hands, she listened with vivid awareness to her pulse throbbing inside her head, mingled with the echoes of the voices tangling inside. When she had gathered herself again into a semblance of normality in her expression, blanking out her gaze, lifting her chin, and straightening her posture to convey a blustering confidence and defiance she did not feel, Faith told herself that Dr. Hannibal Lecter was just a head-gamer, a quack, a bastard who had read her files and then used her obviously too blatant gestures and expressions to make guesses about her and her life. There was no magic in that, just a lot of patheticness that someone could get just from watching her the little bit the guy had gotten right. Which wasn't much. He wasn't right about it all, of course not.

The guy didn't know anything about her, really. He didn't know shit. No creepy-eyed old man in bad need of a toupee could know anything about Faith unless she spelled it out to him herself.

But whatever she told herself, no matter how fiercely she denied it, the deepest part of Faith's being knew that he had. Somehow, Dr. Hannibal Lecter had looked inside of her, saw past all the careful shields and masks and concealments, the heavy armor she had long ago set in place to keep others from even touching any part of her life or past that mattered. And in less than an hours' time- hell, probably less than five minutes' time- he had punched through it all, smearing his wrinkled hands into everything that she had so long succeeded in keeping untouched. He had looked at Faith and summed up her person, as she herself could not have, named her to be exactly what she hated and feared that she was..and she knew as well that he was not entirely wrong. Maybe, he was even fully, completely right.

And that shook Faith to her core.

He had looked at her with those terrible unblinking eyes that seemed to penetrate to her very skin, her very core, and he had spoken of her mother, her Watcher, her mother's lovers…he knew the true story behind the tattoo on her arm, of the reason she had come to Sunnydale…

And he knew about Buffy.

"Tell me, Faith…do you still carry the scar?"

No one had ever seen Faith so clearly, not even Angel, with all of his efforts to help her, to save her. Faith knew that Dr. Lecter's motives for his looking were not clearly as noble. He would not save her…and Faith would not be surprised if his intent was to destroy her. To damn her.

She didn't want to back down from him. She didn't want to ever again show that he had affected her, that he had gotten to her, that a single word he said could hurt her in any way. She didn't want to think that he was right, that she was needy and childish, frightened and insecure…she didn't want to think that she was weak, that she was too intimidated by what the albino-looking bastard might say to ever sit across from him again. But most of all, she didn't want HIM to think those things.

Still, when the month's respite was up and the day came where Faith was to have session with the man again, she did not sleep the night before, her insides twisting with anticipation of what was to come. And as the early hours of the day stretched on, eventually giving way to afternoon, she found herself to be restless, unable to sit still, even as she remained quiet; she could feel cold sweat slowly trickling down her spine, and as disgusted with herself and her actions as she was, she could not shake her dread.

She told herself bracingly that she was prepared for Lecter now, ready for anything he might throw her way. She knew his game now, and she could deflect it, or at the very least refuse to show it affected her. She wouldn't let it affect her. She was in control of herself and whatever was going to happen between them, not him. She could hold her own, maybe even figure out how to throw him off balance this time around. And anyway, if it was really that bad, it wasn't like she had to answer him. If she wanted to she could sit there the whole time and not say a word. What could he do with her then? In fact, that was probably the best thing for her to do. How much satisfaction could he get out of her if she sat there like a lump on a log and just didn't answer? Not much.

Faith told herself that the last time had been a fluke, and she could almost convince herself that the man was nothing more than an old geezer, probably a closet gay, who was no different from the other shrinks she had sent packing except for a serious need for Vitamin D and a pair of dark glasses to hide his weird eyes. Almost.

But not quite. Not when she sometimes shivered in the middle of the night, sitting up fast, positive that those eyes were watching her…not when she could still hear his voice, hissing in an intense whisper, whenever it was too still and quiet in her surroundings.

"Needy child…scared little girl…weak…"

Faith had been on her best behavior in the prison ward after her session with Lecter, trying as she had never bothered to before to obey without sarcasms or dawdling with whatever they asked of her. The other prisoners and guards, especially her old pal Larry, had been suspicious of this sudden turnabout, watching her even more closely than usual to attempt to intercept any plots she might be setting up for. Larry had said aloud more than once, and with an undercurrent of true relief in his voice, that Dr. Hannibal Lecter must be a modern day Jesus miracle worker if one hour with him would suddenly give Faith an entire personality transplant, and that they ought to have him go lay his hands on all the inmates if that was the results they would get.

Faith's reason for this switch in behavior had nothing to do with Lecter and anything he had said to her, of course, or at least not directly. She had hoped that if she decided to become a model prisoner, the guards and other officials would report that she was doing much better, becoming "cured" of whatever was "wrong" with her to make her commit crimes all on her own. She had hoped that they would decide that she didn't need Lecter to have any more sessions with her, that she was more than fine, mentally, all on her own, thanks.

No such luck, of course.

They had said something, when Faith asked why she needed to see a shrink when all her trials and convictions were over, about a possible retrial or early release date, a possibility of parole. Never mind that Faith did not want parole or a retrial and told them so. Never mind that she was here in prison now, by her own hands, because she wanted to be. Evidently Lecter had said something to the contrary, something that made them think such happenings were strong possibilities in Faith's case, and her words were infinitely less influential than his.

The month was up, and nothing Faith did, said, or wanted was going to change it, and when it came down to it, it was something she wanted and needed to do anyway. She was going to be head-shrinked again…she was going to once more sit across from Dr. Hannibal Lecter and listen as he spoke to her in his soft, spidery voice, once again attempting to uncover all she wanted to remain deeply buried.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

"Against the wall, Lehane, hands flat at sides."

As Faith faced the wall of her cell, allowing Larry the prison guard to cuff her quickly and then to pat her down for any hidden weapons, she gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the concrete wall before her. She was usually very aware of exactly where and how she was touched and enjoyed using it as an opportunity for much needed entertainment by provoking whoever was required to search her. And Larry was particularly easy to wind up. But today she was quiet and still, her muscles tensed, and it was enough for Larry to look at her with suspicion.

"Either this Lecter fellow really is something else altogether, or you've got something up your sleeve and been keeping it up there a long time now," he muttered. He patted her down one more time, a little more firmly this time, as if to reassure himself that she was indeed carrying nothing.

Not that it mattered- both of them were well aware of the fact that if Faith wanted to be out of her handcuffs, she would find a way to do so, and if she wanted to hurt someone, her bare hands needed no weapon to achieve this.

Faith stood up a little straighter, forcing her muscles to relax, her jaw to unclench, and fiercely instructed herself to get herself together. The guy was just a man. Not a demon, not a monster, not a vampire, just a stupid big-mouthed old man, and she could kick his ass to Jupiter any time she wanted. This was stupid…she was being stupid. She was letting him get to her before she even saw him. It had been a month, a fucking MONTH. What the hell kind of wuss was she that she would still be so damn stupid over the guy and his stupid psychic shrink routine after a month?

She was getting soft. It was pathetic. She better get her head out of her ass and she better do it fast, because she was NOT going to give Lecter the satisfaction of thinking that she's wasted a few second's thought on him, let alone that he and his stupid "evaluation" had been hanging over her all month.

She lifted her chin slightly and made herself wiggle her eyebrows at Larry as he stepped away from her and turned her by the arm to face out away from the wall again. She let her lips twist into a smirk, her voice holding much insinuation as she looked up at him.

"Up my sleeve? More like down my throat and up my ass. I like a doc who believes in roleplay in therapy, Larry man. Leaves you having too many happy thoughts to have much room left for the murderous ones, ya know?"

The very thought of Lecter's transparent, vein-riddled hand touching Faith was enough to make her stomach lurch, let alone any images of him kissing or fucking her, but Larry didn't have to know that. And if her little act got him thinking she didn't give a shit after all, then it was worth it.

Larry shook his head, and it was his jaw that was clinched now as he steered Faith out of her cell and towards the door to the prison hallway, his hand on her shoulder slightly tighter than was necessary.

"If you had any sort of sense at all, Lehane, you'd cooperate with the man, seeing as he holds the fate of your future in his hands," he muttered, the tension in his jaw echoing that of Faith's from earlier. "But then, none of you lot would be here if you had that, would you?"

"Shows how much clap you've got with the rest of the staff, man," Faith snorted, cutting her eyes at him as they continued to walk. "I didn't get caught. I turned myself in."

As Larry glanced over at her sharply, obviously finding the idea that this girl, who had rarely been anything but ingratiating up until the past few weeks, would turn herself in for crimes that she could have easily got away with to be utterly confounding and astonishing, Faith smirked, raising her eyebrow at him again.

"Dude, you've seen me lift weights, you know I could leave whenever I want. Even if they had caught me, you really think I couldn't have gotten away?"

She took some pleasure from the dubious realization and the sudden unease coming into Larry's eyes, from the way his hand tightened even more on her shoulder, and this gave her the confidence to begin to feel more genuinely that she could get through whatever Lecter tried to throw at her. She was a Slayer, for Christ's sake. She'd been through more shit than any normal person could even think of, and she'd gotten through without cracking up to now, at least more than once or twice. All he could do to her was talk.

Even so, Faith knew, whatever she told herself to the contrary, that simply talking was one of the worst things to survive of all.

He was waiting for her as before in the small interrogation room, seated at the table with his hands folded, not a trace of impatience or discomfort in his expression. In fact, he looked oddly settled, as if he were quite relaxed and comfortable to sit and wait for her arrival for however long it might take. However, as Larry pulled out Faith's chair for her and gave her shoulder a slight push to sit in it, she was sure that she saw his eyes flicker with pleasure as he let them rest on her, and his lips turned up slightly at the corners.

Anger rose in her chest, and she unconsciously clinched her jaw again, averting her eyes and vowing once more to not give him anything, not any sort of reaction, no matter what. Even so, her stomach twisted, and she felt her heart pounding just at being in the same room with him again, sitting across from him, feeling his eyes watching her.

"Good afternoon, Faith," he said cordially, and when Faith gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes turned, he looked to Larry with a slight nod.

"Thank you, Larry. I believe that we are prepared to proceed."

"Be back in an hour, Dr. Lecter," Larry nodded, and as his eyes cut to Faith, she was somewhat gratified to see that he still looked uneasy, as if her words in regards to the ease of her possible escape, should she choose to, were still weighing on his mind.

At least someone else was uncomfortable right now, and made so by her. That damn Lecter, she could tell even without looking him in the face, was entirely at ease, and even enjoying himself, she bet, though she had not yet said a word to him.

Faith could feel his eyes on her and tensed, even as she tried to make her muscles loosen up enough to slump back in her chair as if she didn't' care at all about him, as if she was entirely unbothered and even bored by being in this room, in his presence. She told herself that she didn't, even as her heart continued to pound unsteadily in her chest.

God, she hoped the freaky bastard couldn't hear it. Old men were supposed to have bad senses of hearing and eyesight, but she wouldn't be surprised if this guy was like a bloodhound or something.

"I am sure that at least one of us will be anxiously awaiting your return, but that is not a reason to hurry, of course," Dr. Lecter said wryly to Larry, and as his eyes focused once more on Faith, Faith felt her cheeks burn, her cuffed hands forming fists, nails digging into her palms. Nevertheless, she forced herself not to shoot back a caustic reply, to surrender control she had told herself she would have, as Dr. Lecter finished dismissively. "Goodbye, Larry."

As Larry exited, closing the door behind him, Dr. Lecter's eyes remained focused on Faith with quiet scrutiny that she could not escape from, even as she doggedly kept her eyes averted, her head lowered slightly, slumping in her chair. She hoped that this display of apparent apathetic nature would convey to him that she was not only not dreading anything he could toss her way, but was also not defensive or defiant against it…that she simply did not care. Last time, her rage and denials had seemed to entertain him as much as any pain or softening she had not been able to conceal had…this time, she would hold back all of it.

She had had a lot of time to think about this over the past thirty days.

For several moments she tried not to move as Dr. Lecter eyed her beadily. By something as simple as clearing her throat or shifting her weight, she was bothered by the thought that he might interpret it as a direct reaction to him. Of course, that was all she wanted to do then. She felt so restless and restrained sitting in that hard chair, with the man she despised before her that she wanted to jump up and pace, if not simply run, to ease the feeling of raw exposure scrabbling inside of her. And it seemed that the guy was just as good at the quiet game as she was, and way more comfortable with it…how long was he going to just sit there and STARE at her?

When Dr. Lecter finally spoke, his words were quiet, measured, and yet there was an undercurrent of steel present in them. He did not shift his gaze from her.

"I addressed you earlier, Faith, if you will recall. I am certain you heard me, and yet you did not respond. Such behavior is very rude. I am very much opposed to rudeness, especially from those whom I am devoting my time to in order to…help. Normally, I will not stand for such rudeness…in my opinion, those who display it are individuals who are not worthy of the life that they so callously take for granted as owed to them," he said, and in spite of herself Faith let her eyes shift to his face quickly at that later sentence. Was it just her, or had he sounded more than a little Charles Manson-ish with that insinuation, and the way his voice had practically caressed each syllable spoken?

"However, I suspect that rudeness on your part, more than an inborn trait of personality, is due to a flawed coping mechanism that you developed over your short and rather traumatic lifetime…a mechanism that was born as a form of self-preservation, to protect you from experiencing additional pain and exposing fears and weaknesses," Dr. Lecter continued in that same soft tone that made Faith just as tensed up and angry in reaction to it as if he had screamed.

She wanted to swing her cuffed hands out to hit him, to lean across the table and slam his head into hers, to take those unwavering eyes and gouge them out, throw them into the wall. But she didn't. She remained still and silent, and Lecter's voice went on even without a response from her.

"It is quite clear that you are not pleased to be here, and that is because for you to be here, it feels hard, doesn't it, Faith? You have always recoiled from anything that takes focus and effort and devotion, anything that will bring mental strain and emotional pain…haven't you? No pain, no gain…I'm sure you have heard that phrase before. And you certainly haven't gained very much, have you, Faith?"

Don't talk to him…don't talk, don't answer, don't even fucking look at him…just words, just fucking words, Faith repeated to herself fiercely, even as her palm began to drip blood from the small wounds she was inflicting upon herself unnoticed with her nails. She could do this. She would.

This was going to be the longest fucking hour of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I can see that you have taken my words to heart, Faith…you have certainly been thinking about our last meeting, have you not?" Dr. Lecter said relentlessly, obviously unbothered by her continued silence. If anything he was taking advantage of it, enjoying it as his opportunity to assault her ears and brain with his continual monologue…and it was getting increasingly harder for Faith to keep herself from responding.

"You have thought of it frequently, I would imagine…you can't get it out of your mind, can you?" Dr. Lecter intoned, and his words seemed to pound against Faith's ears, pulsing, unrelenting, even as she tried to block them out. "You hear my words to you echoing inside of your brain, resonating inside of you like a cacophonous symphony…you cannot escape it, can you, Faith, because you cannot escape yourself, your past and the truth of what you are."

He paused, still eyeing her steadily, and his voice grew softer still, nearly a hissing whisper.

"You hear it when awake, in your dreams…you look tired, Faith. Do you sleep at night? I would imagine you toss about in the grips of nightmares, awakening and stopping yourself from crying out. But then, you are undoubtedly used to nightmares…I would imagine that they simply replicate your memories."

Faith was only dimly aware of her teeth grinding, of the slight pain of her cut palms, and she made herself remain motionless even as her body and mind screamed with the desire to lash out. Jaw clinched, she stared fixedly down at the table, a determined mantra repeating itself in her mind.

Don't give in, don't you fucking give in to him, don't give in, don't' give in…

But Dr. Lecter's thin, nearly colorless lips curved, as if he knew exactly what she was instructing herself, exactly how much effort it was taking for Faith not to respond… and as if he needed no response from her to enjoy what he was doing. Faith had thought that her silence would disturb him, throw him off his game, that it would give her control, power. She had thought it would make this hour easier.

She hadn't realized that not answering back, not even once, would be almost fucking impossible.

"Do not think that your decision to abide by the Fifth Amendment is in any way distressing to me, Faith," Dr. Lecter said mildly, and Faith's inner mantra stopped as she frowned, trying to remember what the hell the Fifth Amendment was and realizing she had probably never known in the first place. "Your little power struggle here does not and will not discourage me from completing the task of learning more about you and every thought that ever entered that dark dwelling place you call your mind. You think to control me with a lack of cooperation, to demonstrate that I have no hold over you and your actions, that you can prevent me from knowing you, withhold yourself from me. You are greatly mistaken, Faith. What you do not realize is that I see just as much in your silence as with any words you could say."

At this Faith couldn't stop herself from letting her eyes snap up sharply to meet his before jerking away again, returning with renewed determination to the tabletop. She told herself the guy was bluffing. He didn't see shit. How could he when she was just sitting there?

Unless he was some kind of superhero. Fucking figures the one and only time she gets saddled with a shrink, he's not only a superhero, but apparently a sadist or something too.

"Your silence, Faith, tells me that you have an almost phobic need for control," Dr. Lecter continued softly, still watching her with unwavering gaze, his voice nearly a purr. "You have a desperate need to show yourself to be tough and defiant, to prove that nothing I do can touch or affect you in any way…and ironically enough, Faith, that only demonstrates how very much you do. The tension of your features, the muscles of your jaw and shoulders, the way you keep your head down and your eyes away from mine…you think that if you do not look me in the eye I will read this to be a display of sullen rage, an indication that you do not respect me enough to even acknowledge me. But that isn't the true reason for this behavior…is it, Faith? The reason that you won't look me in the eye is that you are afraid to do so. Afraid of what I'll see…of what I'll understand. You needn't worry…your eye contact is not needed in order for this to occur."

Faith looked up sharply again at this, anger flooding her features, coloring her cheeks. She almost leapt out her chair and lunged across the table to head butt Dr. Lecter in the face. She almost snapped back, screaming out exactly what he could do to himself in graphic detail, while merrily dancing in the hottest pits of hell. She almost gave up on this strategy, on the course of her attempts at redemption overall, and allowed herself to give to what felt right in the moment, to how good it would feel to spread his blood across her fists.

But when her eyes met his, and she saw the intensity, the anticipation in their watery surface, saw that he was watching, waiting, maybe even hoping for her to do this, hoping for her to lose control, she took a deep breath, gripping her hands together so tightly she heard her knuckles pop, and looked him dead on in the eyes, her voice venomous, almost spitting.

"Nice fucking try, DOC. You know, there are better ways to commit suicide than to get someone else to do the work for you."

"Ah, yes…you would know, wouldn't you?" he rejoined pointedly, and the tendons of Faith's neck stood out as she squeezed her cuffed hands together, fighting to stay in control.

"Look, asshole, I don't know who the hell you are or what you want, but I'm not gonna give it to you so you can just go-"

"I would strongly suggest that you not finish that sentence," Dr. Lecter interrupted, and though his voice was as soft and measured as ever, there was an undercurrent that made Faith's eyes narrow with some unease. The guy was sixty years old, what the hell could he do to her? Unless he WAS some kind of secret hidden superhero…

"It would be very much in your best interest to do so, and to refrain from starting another such phrase again."

"Oh so now you're a fuckin' humanitarian with only my best interests at heart, well bravo to you, thanks a lot," Faith snapped with heavy sarcasm. It was obvious that she had lost the battle to remain silent, and she refocused her efforts now on showing him only the force of her disdain and a defiance. "Why don't you just go join the freakin' Peace Corps and be like Mother Teresa?"

"I do hope you realize, Faith, that Mother Teresa was not a part of the Peace Corps," Dr. Lecter responded evenly, "and I never claimed that I do not act in my own best interests…I am merely reminding you of yours. I heard that you have been cooperating with the prison officials…no doubt you hope to avoid anything you wish not to do by playing the role of the good little girl, the model citizen. No doubt the innocent routine was a method you on occasion used as a child…no doubt as well it did not succeed, and yet, you keep hoping, don't you, Faith? You perform the same actions repeatedly, expecting different results, and that is often known to be one of the definitions of insanity. It does not and will not benefit you to cooperate with them…but let me assure you that it will, to cooperate with me."

His voice dropped low, and he seemed to be leaning towards her slightly, his eyes boring hard, almost threatening, into hers. "Let me assure you, Faith, that you do not want me to grow bored with you…and especially, you do not want me to grow angry."

Faith stared at him, and despite her incredulity, she felt slightly chilled…and maybe just a little bit nervous. This was ridiculous…was he actually trying to intimidate her? HER?

"You think I'm afraid of what you'd do if I pissed you off?" she said, and she laughed, but there was little amusement in it. "You're friggin' old, man, and you ask anyone here, anyone who knows me at all. I can damn well hold my own in a fight, and I would take out anyone who tried to fight me with one bare hand. I know I could take YOU."

"Violence has always been an easy fix for you, hasn't it, Faith?" Dr. Lecter responded, and the words were not phrased as a question. "A lesson well learned at home, for one who undoubtedly vowed to never resemble her teachers in her actions. Odd how often your words have come to nothing…but then, did you ever truly think that you would succeed?"

Faith stiffened, her jaw working unconsciously. A brief image of a woman's face, features rough with aggression, flickered across her thoughts, and she pushed it down as she narrowed her eyes, spitting back at him.

"You're fucking boring here, you know that, and for a shrink, you really suck. I thought you're supposed to be cheering me on to change my life or some shit, not telling me what a fuck up I am or trying to goad me into kicking your ass. You really think I give a shit?"

"Yes," Dr. Lecter said simply, and Faith could have pinched herself. Of course he would say that, of course he would see that. Leave it to her to make it all too easy for him to comment. Still, she kept her face as impassive as was possible as he continued.

"Yes, yes, I do, Faith. It is blatantly obvious to me, and I believe that you realize this. As for your referral of your ability to commit violence against me, I will concede that yes, you are capable of doing so, as is any other reasonably fit person who had a strong intention of doing so."

His voice dropped now, the tone suddenly no longer pleasant or steadily professional, no longer carrying the infuriating calm that grated on her nerves particularly because it never wavered. Dr. Lecter's voice was now clearly lacking any amusement or friendliness, almost cold…almost menacing…and when paired with his words, it made Faith's thoughts come to a stunned halt.

"You could certainly hurt me, Faith. What you do not realize is that I am more than capable of hurting you too."

Surely she had heard that wrong. Surely the guy wasn't…he hadn't just threatened her. He was a SHRINK, no matter what a bastard he was, he was an old man and a shrink, and how often did they actually threaten to hurt people?

Well, it was LA.

She stared at him, now wary as well as incredulous. Was the guy crazy? This would explain a lot…or else he really was some kind of secret superhero. Fucking figures. Maybe the prison people got sick of her and were pulling out the big guns.

He didn't look like he was playing.

Unconsciously one finger touched the clasp of her handcuff as Faith lifted her chin, attempting amusement but mostly sounding baffled even to her own ears.

"As I have said," Dr. Lecter said, and his voice was still soft, but more level now, almost pleasant again, enough that Faith blinked, wondering if she had imagined the change in tone after all. "You certainly could choose to hurt me. But to do so would be a two edged sword. Hurt me or attempt to do so, and it is certain that you will be hurt even more greatly than you intended for myself."

That was definitely a threat. No mistaking it this time, and Faith sat up straight, her eyes snapping with her anger.

"Like fuckin' hell I will be, for someone who thinks they know so damn much about me, you obviously didn't do your homework on who I am and what I can do, what I did do! You don't-"

"As I said, Faith," he cut her off firmly, holding her eyes, "it is in your best interest to cooperate with me."

"It sounds like it's in my best interest to kick your ass," she retorted, and was not surprised when Dr. Lecter quickly latched onto this.

"It is quite difficult for you to relate to another person, particularly one who proves to frustrate your expectations, without resorting to hiding behind blustering and violence, isn't it, Faith?"

"If you want-" Faith started, her voice rising, but Dr. Lecter's voice ploughed over it, smooth, not quite a shout, but loud enough to overpower.

"Violence, anger, putting on an act to cover your fears, is all you've ever known, isn't it, Faith…it obsesses you, doesn't it? DEATH obsesses you."

There was a strange glitter in his eye as he said the last sentence, a slight smile curving his lips, and it struck Faith suddenly that he enjoyed the word death, the associative images it brought to mind. Looking at him with sudden clarity, she saw herself in his eyes, in the brief glimpse of the enjoyment, the near lust that the word had once brought her…that she still sometimes fought to keep apart from her.

She saw it, and she knew. Dr. Lecter may be a shrink, he may be a sadist, he may get off on getting into th dark parts of her heart and bringing them squirming to light.

But in that moment, just that brief flicker in his eyes, Faith recognized him for what he was…a fellow killer.

There was no doubt about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Faith stared at Dr. Lecter, unable, with her sudden flash of insight, to look away. Her mouth opened slightly, her formerly narrowed eyes grew round and wide with shock, and she could not move, her breathing momentarily halting; dimly she heard her heart pounding, pulsing in her ears, but she paid it no attention. She no longer cared if Dr. Lecter heard, at least not for the first few seconds.

He was a killer. This man who was in control here, this man who was a doctor, a shrink… this man who could so quickly and deeply get under her skin, who seemed to hold in his grasp everything of her past that she had never revealed to anyone, never spoke of out loud…he was a killer, just like her. And just like her, he had enjoyed it…only in his case, it looked like he still did.

He was speaking again, and Faith made herself straighten up, listening much more closely than she had been before, even as she tried to rearrange her features into her previous expression.

"So much death in your short life, Faith…it haunts you, doesn't it? More than obsessing you…it possesses you. You cannot get through a day, cannot get through an hour, without death on your mind, in your inner view…there is simply so much of it. Your mother…your guardian…and let us not forget, those hopeless souls whose deaths have resulted in your placement here, in your sitting before me at this very moment."

He paused, his voice dropping lower, and Faith's cheeks burned with growing rage…and in reaction to his words, even though she did not want to admit their effect on her.

"Which of those deaths most affects you, Faith…which of them pierces to your soul, slowly shriveling your insides and striking the core of your heart until you are certain if you think upon it too deeply, you will die?"

He paused again, and then, holding her eyes captive with his, spoke in an even lower tone, the intensity such that Faith felt cold, as if the icy blue of his eyes could somehow hold the power to lower her body's temperature.

"Tell me, Faith, about the men you killed. Did they scream? Did they beg you, or gasp and groan from the pain? Or was there no time for that…did they simply look you in the eye as their breathing expired?"

Though his voice was soft, almost seductive, the coldness in his eyes contrasted sharply. Faith lifted her chin as a sharp rush of anger shot through her…anger, and a strong pain that knotted her insides as dying eyes, wide with horror, flashed into her mind.

"You would really get off on hearing that, wouldn't you?" she said tautly, nails once more unconsciously digging into her palms, and Dr. Lecter smiled very slightly, not denying.

"We are talking about you, Faith. I want you to talk to me now about what it means…what it feels…to kill. To take a knife and plunge its blade into someone's living flesh, to watch their life force slowly drain from their body as they look at you with disbelief of their fate, with high expression of their suffering, reflecting from their eyes. Do you enjoy it, Faith…you do, don't you? To hold such power in your hands…the power of life and death, the scope of a person's fate, their destiny…it is exciting, isn't it, Faith? It is exhilarating…you could do it again and again, and never grow tired of it. Nothing else will ever quite match that sensation, will it, Faith?"

Faith gritted her teeth, her eyes lowering to the table, staring steadily down at its surface as she struggled with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. She was trembling slightly, and pressed her legs together tightly in an effort to conceal this. The hot rage filling her chest, pulsing through her veins, was tempered only by her equal measures of dread, even fear…because what he said, she knew to be true. She did enjoy it…she did revel in the power, the glory, of holding another humans' life in her hands, in causing them pain, in deciding how much and how badly she wanted to hurt them…she enjoyed seeing them look at her with fear, with anguish. And she still struggled at times to lock away this part of her, to keep it from ever taking control.

She was struggling now. All she wanted was to take the man before her and choke him until his eyes bulged, to throw him against the wall and slam his head into the table until the blood ran out.

She very nearly did it.

But as her fingers slid over to caress the cuffs on her hands, Angel's face flashed across her mind, his dark eyes serious, foreboding, yet soft, somehow both admonishing and encouraging, so that Faith faltered, her hands stilling. And then Buffy's face joined his, her eyes narrowed with disgust and disapproval, her features tensed…and was that sadness in her eyes, even among her anger?

It wasn't' real, of course. Neither Angel nor Buffy were really there with her, and she didn't really see them. But it was enough, that brief envisioning in her mind, for Faith to pull back, to take a deep breath, and instead to look Dr. Lecter in the eye…to level him with what she knew.

She wasn't afraid of him, no matter what he was, what he'd done, or what he knew. She was Faith Lehane, the badass chick from Southie that even the gangs couldn't take down. She was her Watcher's Slayer, the biggest smartass that side of England had ever known. She was a killer, same as him, and she was not afraid of death or pain, as long as it was her own in question.

She was Faith the Vampire Slayer, every bit as capable as Buffy Summers. And Buffy Summers would never take shit from Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

"You're a killer," she said tautly, her eyes boring into his hard, keeping out what emotion she could even as she felt her jaw working, suspected that her eyes broadcasted entirely too clearly the chaos of thought and feeling inside her. "You're sitting there with your fancy degrees and your damn tie and your expensive "professional" clothes, and you're a killer, even if you are on the other side of the table. You're sitting there like you're so much better, ripping me open like you have a RIGHT, like you want to HELP, and it's just a fuckin' game to you, isn't it? You're sitting here like you're some big moral figure, and you're no better than I am. You're a killer just as much as I am. No, you're worse. I don't hide what I am…I'm facing up to consequences, and you? You're hiding out. You're a fuckin' coward, DOC."

Dr. Lecter's lips curved, and his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as he gave a faint nod, part amused, part interested.

"An interesting theory, Faith…you are reminded, of course, that our sessions are not about me, but rather you."

"Like hell they are!" Faith snapped, her chin jerking up indignantly. "This whole thing, every move you make, every damn word you say, is about getting you off. You talk about me being so obsessed with death and violence, who the hell is sitting here talking about it, drooling over every word, and trying to get me to too? This is ALL about you!"

Dr. Lecter showed no disturbance at her outburst. The faint smile lingered, and his voice remained soft as he replied.

"You call me a coward, Faith…you accuse me of "hiding out," of not facing consequences…but this is precisely what you have chosen to do. You take refuge in prison, keeping yourself apart from real life, from the uncertainty of the real world and your place in it. You fit yourself into a predictable, comfortable environment where little is expected or demanded of you, where simply to obey is to succeed, and you do not face your fears, you do not face who you are, nor what you could be…you are wasted, Faith," he nearly whispered, and Faith felt a slight chill, even as she attempted to ignore him. "You are wasted in your time, your effort, your thought…you tell yourself you are here for atonement, to pay for the sin of being such a bad, bad girl…you tell yourself you are here for your redemption. For someone who claims no religion, Faith, you certainly appear to have an active guilty conscience. But that's not really it, is it, Faith…it's been all your life that you have been searching, struggling to find someone to assure you of your worth, haven't you…or at the very least to allow you to make up for your lack."

Before she could stop herself she was standing, leaning over him aggressively as Dr. Lecter did not blink, did not flinch, but merely smiled up at her rage coiled form.

"Get out of here," she hissed, her voice shaking with her fury. "Take your cowardly murdering ass and-"

"Before you finish that sentence, Faith," he interrupted coolly, his lids lowered, "I would like for you to realize that I wield at this moment considerable power in your life and for your future. I think, Faith, that you should sit down, and we can finally get to the root of what it is that we want from each other."

"I don't want a damn thing from you, except for you to get out of my life and everyone else's," Faith shot back, but Dr. Lecter simply smiled, shaking his head slightly.

"You will, Faith…I can quite assure you that you will."

He gestured with his hand in the direction of her mostly vacated seat and inclined his head slightly towards it as well, speaking with the cordial manner of a gentleman host, as though Faith was not a handcuffed convicted murderess accusing him of being the same, as if she were not currently standing over him, invading his personal space and glaring down at him in a very threatening manner.

"Why don't you have a seat, Faith, and we can talk. I believe you may be more interested in what I have to say at the present moment than you were earlier today, or in our previous session."

"You think wrong, DOCTOR," Faith ground out, " the only thing I'm interested in as far as you go is watching your ass fly out the door. Preferably straight onto your face."

She didn't back away, didn't let her fierce expression ease at all. But Dr. Lecter only stared back at her with steady, steely gaze- unblinking, of course, Faith noticed with disgust. When he spoke, though his voice was not raised, there was a hint of suppressed danger- suppressed violence- in his tone.

"You are beginning to bore me, Faith. I will ask you one more time. Please. Sit."

Faiths' eyes narrowed, her features tensing, and for several moments she did not move or speak, refusing to back down. When Dr. Lecter, as she might have expected, merely continued to stare at her, Faith felt her hands unconsciously form fists in her lap, her neck heating. She was aware of her rapid pulse rate and hoped that Dr. Lecter wasn't.

She wanted to end this here and now, to take that look out of his eye, that quiet assurance of this that all was under his control…that SHE was under his control. She wanted to take him out in one good blow, to see him forced to blink, forced to respect and acknowledge the damage she could do to him, the damage she had so far succeeded in holding back from inflicting.

But if he really was going to talk now…if this wasn't just more of his screwy detailing of her life story, and he really had something he wanted to say, something he wanted from her…maybe she better hear him out. She could always return to just punching him out and spending the rest of her life as a felon later, if she had to.

She didn't want to back down in any way, not now. But he might be right…it might be in her best interest to, even if not for the reasons he was saying.

Faith stood for another twenty seconds or so, just to make her point; all the while Dr. Lecter did not flinch, did not blink, and did not take his eyes off of her or alter his steely expression. When she sat it was with an abrupt careless motion, and she sat up straight, her cuffed hands once more clasped tightly.

When the hell was this hour going to be up anyway?


	5. Chapter 5

Previously: She didn't want to back down in any way, not now. But he might be right…it might be in her best interest to, even if not for the reasons he was saying.

Faith stood for another twenty seconds or so, just to make her point; all the while Dr. Lecter did not flinch, did not blink, and did not take his eyes off of her or alter his steely expression. When she sat it was with an abrupt careless motion, and she sat up straight, her cuffed hands once more clasped tightly.

When the hell was this hour going to be up anyway?

Chapter 5

"Much better," Dr. Lecter approved as Faith remained silent, and her lips pressed together thinly with her irritation and tightly contained rage. She was not doing this for his approval. "Now we can get somewhere, without your petty battles chosen to defend your battered ego standing in the way."

He paused again, his eyes resting on Faith's face, and folded his hands before him almost in the manner of a schoolmarm, but there was nothing feminine or meek about his voice or his gaze. It was soft, rhythmic, almost hypnotic, and even with the anger and disgust she was feeling towards the man, this killer, Faith found herself to be listening closely.

"You do not seem to comprehend the power that my status and influence hold over your current lifestyle and any changes that could potentially be made to it, Faith. I could report to the others anything that I wished, and they would believe my words unquestioningly over yours. My words to them could make your life and even greater hell than that you have sought after, and you would have no choice but to endure it, if you were to obtain that so-called redemption you so believe will make you happy. I could make your life harder, Faith, much, much harder than it has to be."

The only way he could do that was if he arranged somehow for Buffy to be stationed in front of her cell 24/7, staring in at her, yelling, lecturing, eyes narrowed in disapproval, as usual. Or worse yet, forced them to share a cell for the rest of their lives. But since that wouldn't' happen- Buffy would probably just as soon stake Faith in the heart as look at her again- then Faith wasn't too concerned about anything the guy could do short of killing her. Whatever "hell" he set up, she could slip her way past it.

She decided it was wiser not to inform him of this, however; the last thing she wanted to do was give him Buffy's name, if he didn't already have it. He seemed to have forgotten about the mentioning of her from the first session; he hadn't pursued that particular line of torment so far.

Ha, fat chance. This bastard didn't forget anything. More like he was biding his time, waiting for his chance to slip it into his many monologues.

Dr. Lecter paused, his pale eyes slightly narrowed, as if in thought, before he continued in the spidery soft tone that even now, Faith was not used to, that plucked at her nerves like a particularly malicious harpist.

"You are angry, and that is common, expected…reasonable. They hurt you, abused you, body and soul, all of them. Your mother…her lovers…those men in the backseat of cars, between the unwashed sheets of sordid little motel rooms, in the back corner of darkened alleys…you told yourself that they did not harm you, didn't you, Faith? You told yourself that you wanted it, that you asked for it….you told yourself that it was they who were sought out and used by you. But that wasn't how it felt, was it? Not as a child…not as a scrappy young teen, alone on the streets of Boston…not now…does it? You don't feel like the victor, but the victim…don't you, Faith? You feel dirty…used…rotten."

His voice grew steadily softer, yet more intense, until the last word seemed to physically strike her. Faith gritted her teeth as her head jerked up, and she ground out with her eyes flashing dangerously, her hands opening and closing convulsively from fists, "Where the hell are you going with this babblefest, DOC?"

He had told her in their first session not to call him Doc. He had been very adamant about it. But this time around he must be much too interested in what he was saying to her, in her reaction, or more accurately her struggles not to react, to even acknowledge her frequent transgressions of this rule of thumb of his. He merely inclined his head towards her.

"If you will allow me to finish, Faith, I suspect you will find my conclusion to be worth the wait."

"I highly fuckin' doubt it, since I'm not even willing to sit here for two more seconds, even if I was gonna get a million dollars and a year's supply of candy bars for it," Faith spat back but when Dr. Lecter just stared at her with the unsettling gaze that she was STILL not accustomed to, she pressed her lips together and seethed without speaking any further. Loathe to admit it as she was, she WAS curious what the bastard's point was. If he even really had one.

Dr. Lecter waited, seeming to be assessing whether she was going to give him her full attention, however reluctant. Apparently satisfied, he nodded, continuing as though no interruptions had ever occurred.

"They failed you, Faith, and all your life you have keenly felt the injustice of this failure. Your parents…your abusers…but not only they have done so, correct? Your entire world, everyone who ever passed through your life, has failed you, haven't they, Faith? All of your neighbors, your teachers, the extended family who never visited, never contacted, cutting you from their lives as well as your mother…the hospital staff and school counselors, and all those you ever dared to hope you could think of as your friends…they failed you too, didn't' they? They did nothing to help you, or if they did attempt to do so, it was too little, too late, and entirely half-hearted in nature, wasn't it? They looked straight through you…they never saw your pain, did they. They looked at you and saw a tough girl, a bad girl, not a victim, not a child, not someone in pain, someone who needed their help, just as you wanted…but that wasn't really what you wanted, was it, Faith?"

Stop saying my name, Faith thought fiercely, biting down on the inside of her cheeks, her hands continuing to clench and unclench in her lap. Screw you….screw you with a fucking screwdriver, you murdering sadist asshole.

But when she opened her mouth, the words would not quite come out, and Dr. Lecter smiled, watching this inner struggle.

"You wanted them to reach out, to help you…to save you. But they didn't. No one cared enough to even realize you needed saving. No one cared at all."

Angel cares, Faith told herself fiercely, and she felt that protest rise to the tip of her tongue just before she could swallow it back, not wanting to give up any information she wasn't sure Lecter already knew. Angel cares. You wouldn't' be alive today if it wasn't for him. He cares, and when he comes to see me again, I'll tell him about this Lecter bastard, I"ll tell him everything.

Even as she told herself this, she knew she wouldn't. Even now, even with Angel, Faith could not let herself ask for help. Especially if she didn't' really need it. She was fine, she was five by five…she was dealing, and so far she hadn't even killed the man.

Yet.

"All those supposed friends of yours back in Sunnydale…what happened between you? Where are they now…what are they doing?" Dr. Lecter pressed, his voice smooth, all the more infuriating because of its calmness. "They were never really friends at all, were they…did any of them know of your past, what it took to place you by their sides? Did they know you were an orphan twice over, a street urchin, the "lover" of any who wanted or asked? Did they care? The girl you looked up to so fervently, the one whose love you desired so very strongly…did she care?"

Don't say Buffy's name, don't say Buffy's name, don't say anything, don't say Buffy's name…

"While you lived alone in that shabby motel of ill refute with no job, no money, no guardian…did you ask for help?" Dr. Lecter questioned, and then answered himself with certainty before she could snap a reply. "No, of course you did not. And neither did they offer it, did they, not in ways that meant something. Did anyone ever question, Faith, how you were surviving…how you were making the money to do so? The price you paid to do so…you, and your body."

Bloody palms again, nails pressing in hard. Her jaw ached from how tensely she was holding it, muscles coiled to spring. If he pushed her one more time, for one more second…

Where the HELL was Larry, why didn't they video these damn so-called "sessions?"

"Not many girls can put a price to their worth…how much did you go for, Faith? I would not bet more than fifty dollars…and I imagine that this is probably an estimate on the higher scale."

That was it. Leaping to her feet again, fast and violently enough to topple her chair, Faith grabbed hold of the table between them and pushed it aside so that it smacked into the wall hard enough to dent it. As Dr. Lecter watched her impassively, she took several strides so she was standing directly over him aggressively, so that he would have to shove her to be able to move from his seat.

Her body language threatening, imposing, she glowered down at him fiercely, her limbs trembling slightly with the rage coursing through her, eyes darkened so that they were nearly black. She did not care that she was not sure if there was a camera in this room that a prison official might currently be watching; she did not care that the room might not be sound proof, that someone might have heard the noise and come running to gladly neutralize her- or at least attempt to. Instead, she almost screamed, her face so close to Dr. Lecter that he probably felt some of her spittle spray his cheek, and still the man looked steadily back at her without flinching in the slightest.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you asshole, what the fuck is it that you're trying to do here? What do you fucking want from me?"

"That, Faith, entirely depends on you," Dr. Lecter replied evenly, and though she had removed the table from before him, which he had been using previously to rest his hands upon, he now set them on his legs as though he were just as comfortable doing so. "I have stated several times now that this session is not about me, but rather you. I am not deceiving you in saying so."

"Like hell you're not, this is-" Faith started off angrily, but Dr. Lecter overrode her, his voice strident, raised, but lacking the emotional resonance of her own.

"What is it that YOU want, Faith? What is it that you most need? Love…approval…power…respect…fear?"

He paused, allowing time for each word to sink in, and then continued in a lower persuasive murmur. "You can have it, Faith, anything that you want and need to experience, anything you want others to feel towards you, anything you want to feel. I can give it all to you."

For a few moments Faith was too taken aback to know how to respond. She blinked, her mouth opening slightly, her rage wavering momentarily. What the hell was he talking about?

"Are you propositioning me?" she asked with more than a little suspicion, and Dr. Lecter actually smirked, the first time she had seen him react as such.

"Not in the way that you doubtless have in mind, no. I assure you that I have absolutely no interest in you in that regard."

Thing was, Faith actually thought he was telling the truth, weird as that was. She'd never met a straight man she couldn't make want her before. Well, she'd never caused Oz to so much as bat an eye, but then, the guy was so laidback he practically didn't have a pulse.

Faith told herself fiercely not to listen to him, to let him just ramble on without even questioning him. The hour had to be almost up. All she had to do was get through it, and later she would figure out a way to get the murdering sadist bastard out of her life. She shouldn't respond. She should fix the table back, sit down again, and just not respond.

But she just couldn't do that. Instead she said tightly, not backing away from her invasion of Dr. Lecter's personal space at all, "Then what is the "regard" you're interested in…what do you want?"


	6. Chapter 6

Previously:

Faith told herself fiercely not to listen to him, to let him just ramble on without even questioning him. The hour had to be almost up. All she had to do was get through it, and later she would figure out a way to get the murdering sadist bastard out of her life. She shouldn't respond. She should fix the table back, sit down again, and just not respond.

But she just couldn't do that. Instead she said tightly, not backing away from her invasion of Dr. Lecter's personal space at all, "Then what is the "regard" you're interested in…what do you want?"

Chapter 6

Dr. Lecter eyed Faith steadily for several moments, as if to make the point that he would not be ordered about by her on her command. Faith felt her jaw tightening and her muscles tensing, and still she did not back away.

"They hurt you," he said at last, his voice soft, yet nearly vicious in its tone, his eyes narrowing slowly as they bored up into Faith's, so close to his own. "All those who did not help you, all those who would not see, and above all, those who used you for their own perverse gratification of desires…they hurt you. You want to see them suffer…you want to make them pay. It is a desire constantly clutched close to your heart…and no matter how much time you wile away in a prison setting or how fervently you hope for a change of heart, a redemption of soul, it will always be present within you, Faith…it will always dominate."

A cold dread slowly settled in Faith's heart, a dread that was fear as much as denial, and she shook her head, faintly at first, then more vehemently.

It was not true. What he was saying, it was not true, and she would not believe it….she wouldn't listen, make it where it could come true. She was not that person…she didn't want to be that person. Not anymore. Not ever. He was playing with her just like always. How the hell would he know anything?

But then why did she unconsciously take a step back…why was her heart beating faster, her torso suddenly shaky inside?

Redemption was a bitch. She had said so, and Angel had agreed. It was hard, but she could do it. She could change. He had told her so. She trusted him. Him, not this lying asshole with watery snake's eyes.

But even so her voice was not as steady as she wanted as she denied him…and even so, she was afraid that she was lying.

"No. It won't. You don't know shit."

"It will," Dr. Lecter countered softly, "and you will. And you know it."

"No," she said more insistently, her voice rising, and he smiled, his eyelids half-lowered even as he gazed up at her, in such a manner that she was reminded of a spider, closely observing its prey before striking.

"You do," he repeated, "you want it, Faith, so badly that you ache with need of it…and you could do it. You could repay hurt for hurt, pain for pain, ache for ache…I could show you how. And you could do it in such a way that no consequence would be rendered upon yourself."

Faith blinked; even now, as she stared down into Dr. Lecter's cold, unwavering gaze, she could not entirely accept what he seemed to be so clearly proposing…and she wasn't sure whether this was because she was horrified, or because she was excited.

"WHAT?" she asked in a belligerent tone, and Dr. Lecter addressed this rudeness before continuing with his slowly emerging explanation.

"There is no need to use such a tone when I am speaking with you, Faith. There is no longer any need or use in your attempts to protect or defend your emotions in such a manner, since you know very well that I see them quite clearly regardless of any efforts on your part. So now that we understand each other…it is expected that we speak plainly and with civility for this continued understanding."

Faith didn't feel like she understood anything at all. Nevertheless she stopped herself from saying so as Dr. Lecter began, staying her ground a few paces away from him.

"You understand, Faith, that I could have you out of jail and on probation within a month's time," he said silkily, his eyes locked on hers, holding her immobile. "There was very little evidence beyond your confession for your crimes. At the time of your confession you had just turned eighteen…at the time you committed them, you were still a juvenile, an orphan with no guardian, under extreme emotional and mental trauma. A retrial would be quite easy to arrange…and you could quite easily leave prison with your record expunged." He paused for several moments, still holding Faith's eyes with his as he added, "If you were willing to learn."

Faith's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as her mind raced with her conflicting thoughts, unable to understand or accept what he was saying, what he was offering. THIS…THIS was why he had tortured her for two months in a row now…why he had watched her break inside from rage and pain, lashing out in fury, as he relentlessly poked at every sore place inside her, prying and examining every hurtful buried secret of her past and present…this was why he had done everything he could to make her lose it, to make her go back on her continued struggle to tame the anger and violence always so close to surface? This is why…to get her OUT?

It made no sense…it made no sense at all, and she was sure it must be a trick, some kind of trap. How else could that be reasonable?

"What?" she blurted incredulously, "why the hell would you do that? What's the catch here, you're setting me up again!"

"No catch…although I may circumvent plainly spelling out my intentions for my actions, as you have doubtless noticed in our short amount of time together, this is not in an effort to trick or deceive, but rather in order to observe, learn, and make meaningful conclusions that will engender further decisions on my part," Dr. Lecter said smoothly as he kept his hands motionless and with apparent ease in his exposed lap, gazing up at the prisoner still standing over him, though several steps back from where she had been originally.

Faith snorted at this comment- it was an understatement if she'd ever heard one. Nevertheless she listened, fists balled unconsciously before her, and itched to be able to cross her arms, to put her hands on her hips, to be able to express herself by making thoughtless gestures that the handcuffs would not allow. She could break them easily, of course, but she would not. Not just yet, not when it was so close to the hour being up, not when the doc was finally talking, finally starting in on what exactly it was that he wanted from her. Other than her life, or her emotion, Faith didn't have a clue, and so she stood with stiff begrudging silence as the man continued.

"No catch, just work, extensive work and learning that would certainly be required in order to groom you to truly be among the best…and I only associate with the best, Faith," Dr. Lecter said softly, his words only confounding her further. He thought she was among the best, or at least had the potential to be, after two hours of his telling her that she was a weak, needy little girl, an immature and impulsive loser? The best at WHAT?

"And as for why I would help you…why I would choose you…I feel, after my observations of you, that you have potential," Dr. Lecter went on. His eyes drifted quickly but not quite invasively over her form, as though examining her body for its efficiency in well-being more so than as if he were checking her out. "Of course, currently that potential is deeply buried behind your rather inefficient display of behaviors, attitudes, and emotions, both real and invented. It will take quite extraordinary effort on both of our parts to unearth it and restore it to its fullest. But the potential is there, and therefore it can be done. If, of course, you were willing. If you are not, then I am afraid it is beyond even my best efforts."

He paused again, his eyes now examining her expression, and though Faith tried her best to make it difficult for him to read, something he saw made his lips curve, his pale eyes glint slightly.

"You are crude, Faith, and I cannot abide or tolerate uncouth or rude behavior in my presence for long. You are certainly unschooled, lacking the powers of charm and persuasion that will be necessary. Though you are certainly seductive in body, you are brash and grating in your approach, and it is your mind that should work primarily in the course of seduction, to sway another mind to your way of thinking and acting rather than to engage in meaningless copulation. You lack the cunning intelligence and sheer talent that I would prefer to work with. But then, if you had all of this, you would have no need of a guiding hand, would you?"

"WHAT?" Faith blurted again, unable to take in any more without giving some form of venting to her bewilderment; her eyebrows slanted, her brow furrowing, and again she had an urge to throw up her hands but could not do so. "WORK with you? What, you want me to be your SHRINK ASSISTANT or something, are you totally psychotic?"

"No, merely sociopathic, and there is quite a difference, though modern media and popular opinion does not seem to agree," Dr. Lecter said calmly, unruffled, and as Faith continued to stare at him, her thoughts stumbling, incredulous, and searching hurriedly for some explanation that would come to her faster than his, he resumed his unhurried version.

"It is unprecedented for me to express an interest in another, or at least an interest that lasts beyond mere minutes. It is possible and even likely that I may eventually change my mind. I certainly would never imagine that my interest would be arrested by one such as yourself. But it is. Despite your many shortcomings…and there are many," he said wryly, his eyes sliding over her once again so that Faith bit down on the inside of her cheeks, tasting her own blood, "and despite how very tiresome and predictable you can be as well…you still have somehow managed to capture my attention. And it is not often that a man such as myself finds another human, much less one hardly more than a child, to be any less than mind-numbingly dull."

"So glad I'm your new favorite toy," Faith snapped, "I'm really honored here. Now when are you going to tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"I would think you would have guessed by now," Dr. Lecter said with some amusement, and Faith stopped, a slow realization beginning to enter her thoughts, sending a cold sensation spreading down her core. Watching her, Dr. Lecter smiled, giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

"You have cracked, Faith, under my pressure applied. You have lashed out and shown an unacceptable lack of control and discipline, and that must be corrected. But you did not crumble. You did not break. And that…that is where my interest begins. This is where you could become useful to me, and to yourself, to be able to have at last what you always desired."

Buffy's face flickered into her mind, and Faith shoved it away, lifting her chin and speaking firmly as she met his eyes.

"You're asking me to be your partner."

"I am asking you to open yourself to an opportunity to learn from the best," Dr. Lecter reworded, but the look held between them told her all she needed to know. "I am asking you to broaden your…tastes…for things."

The way he paused over that word, the meaningful manner in which he caressed its syllable, his s's hissing, made Faith's thoughts flash back to their first session, to her joking of his first name and the response he had given: "I eat meat of all varieties, and I possess no sense of shame for it…"

Thinking of this, a new realization hit her as well, and her eyes widened as she fought not to physically recoil. Still watching, Dr. Lecter's faint smile widened slightly.

"I could give you everything, Faith…you want power, respect, love, fear…you want vengeance, for all the world to fear your name? Do you want all those who have hurt you to suffer and repent…do you want HER, she who has rejected you above all others, to weep with the realization that she is too late to be sorry?"

His voice lowered, and there was nothing in her consciousness left now but him, him and his hypnotic eyes.

"I could give you everything, Faith…all I ask is that you are open to receive."

(next chapter is the last one guys)


	7. Chapter 7

Previously:

His voice lowered, and there was nothing in her consciousness left now but him, him and his hypnotic eyes.

"I could give you everything, Faith…all I ask is that you are open to receive."

Chapter 7

Dr. Lecter's words seemed to resonate inside of Faith's ears as he watched her, waiting for her response, and Faith knew that he could do it, that he really could give her what she was being offered. She didn't know how or by what methods…but he could do it, and he would. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he would give her…if she would just say yes.

She could do it. She could say yes, step forward into Dr. Lecter's watchful gaze, his scrutinizing stare…she could bow to his authority, his seeming skill, and take up whatever mantle he was offering, accepting any and all prices that must be paid to do so. She could stop fighting, stop trying, stop straining against a nature that was so damn natural to her and instead shape it into something she had never fully allowed herself to become. She could give up on the redemption that was so slow in coming, that might never come at all, and give in to another way.

It would be so easy. And yet, so hard…and Faith was tempted. Swallowing, looking back into Dr. Lecter's sharp gaze, she could not deny that she was tempted.

What good did it do her, to be as she was now? How much good was she really doing herself or anyone else to stay in prison? Did anyone but Angel even care how hard she was trying, how much it hurt? Had trying ever gotten her anywhere before?

She thought of her mother, the way her brown eyes had clouded, her skin tightening with anger just before she struck out, the way her voice had hissed when she told Faith that she was a loser, a bitch, a slut, a mistake…she thought of Ronnie's glinting eyes, of Steve's dull grin, of Kenny's careless shrug, and a flurry of faces, of features contorted in violence, in lust, in ecstasy, of grasping hands and strong legs reaching out, pinning down. She thought of her Watcher's proud smile, quickly fading as anguish lit her eyes, of an ancient slashed face grinning with cruel delight, of a puppy-eyed, hopeful boy in his underwear outside her motel room, of a redheaded girl's eyes narrowed in judgment and jealousy, of a grimly silent British man, refusing to scream at her cruel, tormenting touch. She thought of Angel, of the gentle compassion and solid support of his arms as he held her sobbing form, of the quiet pride in his expression as he looked at her through the prison glass. She thought of them all, and then she thought of her.

Faith thought of Buffy. She thought of Buffy, and she knew what she would do…the only thing she could do.

She had averted her eyes, staring past Dr. Lecter as her thoughts ran freely, coming together to form her decision, and now she deliberately turned her gaze back to him, meeting and holding his eyes with resolve as she spoke quietly, calmly, but with complete conviction.

"Go to hell."

Dr. Lecter stared back at her for several moments without reply, and though nothing in his expression changed, Faith could physically feel the tension in the air lessen, and then disappear…so this was it. This was how it would be.

"You have made your decision, Faith," he said softly, almost respectfully, as he inclined his head towards her slightly. "As for your goodbye bidding, perhaps we will meet again in there one day. Until then…I am certain you will find ample preparation for it here on earth."

Standing unhurriedly, sidestepping Faith and striding to the door, he pressed the button to summon Larry to come to his aid; as the man quickly appeared outside the door and seized hold of Faith, casting his eyes upon the disturbed chair and table from where she had shoved them, Dr. Lecter spoke casually.

"I am afraid there is nothing more I can do for this case. I would take extra precautions, as she is quite unstable…and as you can see, given to sudden violent outbursts. I wish to speak privately with your supervisor…there are certain measures that would be beneficial for all if they were undertaken immediately."

Even as she heard this, even as she knew very well what Lecter's "measures" would probably mean for her, and could only imagine what lies he would spew, Faith could not really grow angry…she couldn't even bring herself to care. She would get past it, one way or another she would get past it.

As Larry hauled her back to her cell, somewhat more roughly than was needed, her anger still did nto reignite itself in her chest…if anything she kept her chin lifted, her shoulders straight as she left the room without another word or glance at Dr. Lecter, and a warm glow began to spread slowly through her…the beginnings of pride.

She didn't care if she had to live the rest of her life wondering what she could have had, what Lecter could have given her…not when she was finally beginning to understand, finally beginning to see, that it was herself she had to live with first.

Maybe Faith could have had everything. Maybe he could have given her all she ever needed, all she could ever want….but he couldn't give her happiness. He couldn't give her strength. He couldn't' give her peace. And that…that was what Faith really wanted. That was what she had to earn for herself.

And she would. No matter what it took, how long and how hard she had to work for it, she would. For Angel. For her Watcher. For all those she had failed, all those she had hurt…for Buffy. But mostly, for herself.

Because Faith damn well wasn't going to be some creepy old guy's puppet protégé again. She might be a slow learner, but she did learn. Eventually.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was just gonna have to find himself another headcase, and as for that meeting in hell he had all planned out? He just damn well better be ready, and Satan too, because down there? There were no rules. And redemption or not, Faith did have a grudge to repay.

The man better hope he found a way to live forever.

End


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